


i lost that state of mind

by hrhowling



Series: (i'm well aware of) certain things that will destroy a man (like me) [2]
Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Heavy Angst, Injury, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 06:20:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18176972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrhowling/pseuds/hrhowling
Summary: "And you're absolutely sure it's him."One o'clock in the morning is not a great time for gut-twisting revelations. Too bad Jameson has just that.~~~Title from Ed Sheeran's'Eraser'.





	i lost that state of mind

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [a post](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/466097) by traincat on tumblr. 



“And you’re absolutely sure it’s him?”

Maybe his wife was right about staying out so late, especially in his old age, but the lecture for working until one o’clock in the morning would be worth it if Jacobs’ claim was true. Newfound energy fuelled J. Jonah Jameson’s step as he descended the stairs of the Daily Bugle, down towards sweet, petty retribution.

“Yessir, but honestly, I think we should really call the police first-.”

“Alright, fine, do what you need to. I just need to see this.”

“Uh, thank you, sir. Yessir.”

Hurried tapping took the place of Jacobs’ footsteps behind him, but Jameson went on without him. Nothing was getting in the way of this moment.

Something felt wrong the moment he glimpsed the sprawled form lying just outside the Bugle doors, clad in red and blue, unmoving. The smug strut to his step faltered.

Knots began to form in Jameson’s gut, and he didn’t know why.

It must be something he ate, he decided, and carried on, almost slamming open the glass doors as he reached them.

This wasn’t right…

Jameson wasn’t a police officer, but reporters still saw their fair share of dead and broken bodies.

He knew something was off. No normal circumstances would leave a body in such a twisted position, chest twitching with such shallow breaths, stupid spandex suit stained so dark with blood…

Jacobs came out behind him, and he caught a sickly gasp of ‘oh my god’, followed by the sound of what was likely the other man stumbling to the floor and retching.

“Call an ambulance,” Jameson ordered gruffly as he knelt down to get a closer look at the vigilante that had antagonised him for almost eleven years (something was… _off_ about the form of his face…). He may have hated this web-slinging menace, but he wasn’t about to develop a reputation for willingly let a man die, especially if said man was New York’s so-called ‘hero’.

The mask was slick with blood, glistening in the glow of looming streetlights, those freakish eyes cracked to reveal parts of the man beneath. One blue eye, hazy with pain and wide with fear, trying desperately to stay open.

He’d seen eyes like that before…

Where…?

No. That didn’t matter.

Taking off the mask would have consequences, Jameson knew that. But ten years of taunts and angry headlines, of humiliation and barbed witticisms, drove away all reservations as he reached out and made to pull that damning thing away from the bastard’s face.

A hitched, wheezing gasp, and the feeling of terrified eyes locking onto him made him pause for a moment.

Why did this feel so wrong?

Didn’t he deserve this?

“This is for ten years of trouble, menace,” he growled, and the shredded remains of that mask came off completely.

…

…

…

It was the first time Jameson ever regretted following his gut.

He wasn’t looking at Spiderman anymore.

He was looking at Peter Parker.

Peter Parker, that infuriating young spitfire of a man, who had sold his first photo at just fifteen years of age, when he hadn’t quite grown out of that dumb sweater vest of his and those inch-thick glasses. Even then, Jameson had seen a spark in his eyes, that little _something_ that set him apart from all the other shmucks who came his way, looking for a way to the top.

Peter Parker, who for the last ten years had been closer to him than his own son, lay broken and bloodied in front of him, those once-hopeful blue eyes glazed over with pain and fear, cheekbone and jaw shattered out of shape, chest halfway _crushed_ , blond hair soaked red…

“My god,” Jameson choked, eyes stinging with disbelief. This couldn’t be happening… All these years, and it had always been…?

His hands shook as he reached out to thread his fingers through Parker’s hair, sickeningly cold against his skin. Goddammit, he was shaking. Jameson hastily took off his jacket and laid it over the shivering man.

“Hold on, kid, Where’s that ambulance?!” he barked over his shoulder.

“Th-they’ve just-.”

“Tell them to get a move on! This kid’s dying over here!”

“R-right! Uuh…”

“And get Parker’s wife on the phone ASAP! Come on, Parker, eyes on me. You’re not dying today…”

* * *

 

The ambulance howled into view faster than Jameson had thought possible (being Spiderman had its perks, he noted grumpily), and paramedics immediately jumped out with a stretcher and medical equipment. They wasted no time intubating him, setting him on the stretcher, and securing his neck in a brace that looked about ready to suffocate him.

He was in the ambulance and off to the hospital before Jameson could demand to go with him.

The helpless look that Parker had given him before disappearing behind a pair of heavy doors was gut-wrenching.

“Mr Jameson?”

Oh… Jacobs was still here.

“What?” he grunted.

“M-Mrs Parker is…”

Wordless, Jameson took the phone from Jacobs’ hand and held it to his ear.

“Mrs Parker?” he began, words already piling up in his head. What did he say in this situation…?

Mary-Jane Watson-Parker’s voice was low and bleary with sleep, “Jameson? It’s one in the morning… what’s going on?”

“I… You need to get to the hospital… It’s Peter…”

Her halted sob told him all he needed to know…


End file.
